


That Certain Night

by Skelligiri



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: Aziraphale Loves Crowley (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode: s01e06 The Very Last Day of the Rest of Their Lives, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), M/M, The Ineffable Plan (Good Omens), The night of the bodyswap, ineffable cuddles, let's face it, they could both use some TLC after the day they've had
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-26
Updated: 2020-07-26
Packaged: 2021-03-06 06:54:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25529239
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skelligiri/pseuds/Skelligiri
Summary: As if he could read Aziraphale like one of the books he claimed not to read, Crowley turned to him, a flicker of gold fixated on him out from above the rim of his sunglasses.‘Just so you know,’ the demon drawled, ‘my flat or out here on this bench, you’re not getting rid of me tonight. Fair warning.’
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 5
Kudos: 82





	That Certain Night

‘You can stay at my place, if you want.’

Aziraphale turned to Crowley in surprise. He was in equal parts touched and unsure of himself. ‘I don’t think my side would like that.’ The angel remarked shakily.

‘You don’t have a side anymore,’ his demonic counterpart replied softly. Aziraphale hesitated and swallowed hard as the memories came back to him. How he’d chosen to openly defy heaven by refusing to lead his platoon, before looking for Crowley on Earth. How he’d found him in a bar waiting for Armageddon, bereft by the loss of his best friend.

‘Neither us do.’ Crowley continued. ‘It’s like Agnes said. We’re going to have to choose our faces wisely.’

Aziraphale looked on, replaying the words in his head. They had played with fire, sure enough, and they’d chosen their own side to contribute in the stopping of Armageddon.

And now, without any kind of guidance or plans, it was impossible to see what lay ahead of them.

Crowley sluggishly hailed the bus as the angel swallowed down his emotions with the skill of somebody who had millennia of experience under his belt. He had a decision to make, but the years of secrecy were hard to just push away in one night. On one hand, he was relieved. On the other, he was terrified. There were so many complicated feelings surging through him, but no time to confront them; Crowley had made him an offer, and he deserved an answer.

As if he could read Aziraphale like one of the books he claimed not to read, Crowley turned to him, a flicker of gold fixated on him out from above the rim of his sunglasses.

‘Just so you know,’ the demon drawled, ‘my flat or out here on this bench, you’re not getting rid of me tonight. Fair warning.’

That settled it.

Aziraphale stood up and extended his hand to his friend, who sighed in relief as he allowed himself to be pulled up. ‘Thank fuck,’ he half-laughed, ‘I could really do with some wine and somewhere more comfortable to sit.’ Aziraphale smiled back, but he couldn’t help but focus on his hand as they entered the bus and walked past the driver, who didn’t seem to take notice of them.

Crowley hadn’t let go.

He didn’t let go even when they sat down, so their intertwined hands were resting on their thighs. Something about the physical contact felt grounding, preventing the angel’s mind from wandering too far.

Aziraphale gave his friend’s hand a grateful squeeze and pretended not to notice him blushing ever so slightly.

* * *

The driver appeared to be a little more coherent, if somewhat confused, when the bus stopped in front of Crowley’s flat in Mayfair. ‘Thank you,’ Aziraphale told him with a smile and used the hand not currently in Crowley’s to snap his fingers. An old injury the driver had sustained in a climbing accident mysteriously disappeared.

They wordlessly entered an unsuspecting house in a row of unsuspecting houses, went up the stairs and entered Crowley’s flat, stepping over the duke-of-hell-turned-puddle on the floor into the wide-open, dark and chilly maze Crowley called his residence.

Aziraphale inspected the unfamiliar surroundings. Residence, yes, but this place, with its barebones and altogether uninviting interior, could hardly be called a home. He suddenly understood why Crowley spent so much time at the bookshop.

Or rather, why he _had_ spent so much time at the bookshop, before the fire that had claimed all of the angel’s earthly belongings.

Aziraphale realized that Crowley had let go of his hand and primly put his hands together in front of him. He suddenly rather missed the touch.

Crowley, meanwhile, followed the angel’s gaze from the dark living room to the verdant garden. Aziraphale looked terribly out of place and the demon silently blessed himself for not choosing a more angel-appropriate interior, aesthetic be damned… blessed… both. He decided to ignore his own exhaustion creeping up on him and tried to break the silence in the most upbeat way he could muster.

‘It’s not the bookshop, but I do have some Château Lafite from 1869. A few glasses of that and the place is going to feel a lot homier. Was quite the year, 1869. Remember the premiere of Wagner’s ‘Das Rheingold’? You were trying to speak German and it was hilarious! Speaking of Wagner, we can put some music on, if you want. More fun drinking with some background noise, eh?’

The angel turned to him and gave him a faint smile. ‘Rather.’, he replied. The look in his eyes was a bit vacant.

‘Well then. I’ll get the wine, you make yourself comfortable.’ Crowley stepped around a wall towards what Aziraphale could only assume was the kitchen. Structurally, there was no way there could’ve been a room in that particular place from the way the building looked from the outside, but the angel quickly realized that the flat in its entirety was much too spacious for the building.

Crowley had always had an active imagination, and his flat proved it.

Crowley quickly re-emerged with a bottle of wine and two glasses, just as Aziraphale tried his best to get comfortable on the sofa without much success. Das Rheingold began to emanate from Crowley’s phone with unnatural volume and clarity for such a device. Crowley offered one of the glasses to Aziraphale, who took it absent-mindedly.

‘Cheers,’ Crowley lifted his glass, ‘to being incompetent.’

‘Hear, hear.’

They toasted and Crowley took a swig. ‘Mh, not bad,’ Crowley remarked. But Aziraphale was just staring into his wine, clearly lost in thought. Crowley took off his sunglasses and put them away.

‘Okay, cards on the table. What’s on your mind, Angel?’ Crowley asked finally.

‘It’s been a long day.’ Aziraphale remarked softly.

Crowley snorted. ‘You can say that again.’ His eyes lingered on his friend. Aziraphale’s eyes were treacherous when it came to things he wanted nobody to see.

The angel swallowed. ‘Your plants. I saw them when I stepped in. They truly are a beautiful sight to behold, even from afar.’ he remarked suddenly.

He almost jumped at Crowley’s snarl. ‘Don’t say that! They’ll hear you!’ he hissed.

Aziraphale blinked. ‘The plants?’

‘Yes, the plants! You don’t know what they’re like! You pay them _one_ compliment and they just _stop trying_. Yellow leaves and root rot everywhere! Nah, you gotta keep them on their toes, or whatever the toe equivalent of a plant is, so they don’t slack off. I’ll show them to you, just don’t compliment them. Extra points if you can manage a scowl.’ the demon muttered.

‘Can’t make any promises, I’m afraid. I don’t go around scowling.’

Crowley snorted in response. ‘Come on now, I saw your face the last time someone served you an over-baked soufflé. Yeah, just like that.’

* * *

The garden really was beautiful. Crowley’s selection included a wide range that was completely unsuitable for the weather in London, but the room happily made up for it with a climate of its own. Several climates, actually, depending on which corner of the room you were closest to.

Crowley showed Aziraphale all of his plants individually and not-so-subtly inspected them, glowering down at each plant that had been ‘slacking off’ and promising to deal with them later. The angel, however, was looking around in awe, unsure how Crowley could see anything other than perfection. ‘It reminds me of the garden.’ he noted.

‘Mh?’

‘The garden of Eden. I’ve often thought of it over the years and wondered why it was that She stopped speaking to me after I’d given away my sword. I’m still wondering if it was because I’d lied to Her face and She was angry.’

The demon hummed. ‘It’s not like She can’t hold one hell of a grudge, I mean with the whole Cut Off From Grace For All Eternity business. But if She’d been that pissed off, She would’ve just made you fall. She didn’t.’

Aziraphale swallowed hard. ‘I tried reaching out to Her today, you know.’

Crowley stopped inspecting the plants. ‘Oh?’

‘Yes, the last time I was in… in the bookshop. I tried to get through to Her, but could only get Her spokesperson. The Metatron recalled me to heaven for battle, with God’s authority.’

‘Yeah, I’ve heard of him. Voice of God my ass,’ Crowley hissed, ‘Can’t believe anyone would buy that crap.’

‘I used to believe it, but truth be told, I don’t anymore. It’s jarring, really, doubt is a slippery slope and I never even considered… I didn’t, I… I really thought She’d step in to protect Her creations. Her plan.’

Crowley paused and took note of the shakiness of his friend’s voice. ‘Doesn’t matter.’ He replied softly, ‘We were there. Well, Adam was, but you pointing out the Ineffable Plan thing was pretty clever. If those angels had any decency, they’d be thanking you for pointing out that little detail.’

‘They won’t. And I want to believe that She’ll step in, that She won’t let it happen, but I’ve been afraid of what Hell would do to you for so long, I’ve pushed you away over and over because I was so afraid. Because it had only ever been us. You’d been right all along, Crowley.’

‘Wouldn’t say that. Remember when I thought sequin boots were a good look?’ Crowley drawled with a shudder at the memory and turned around absent-mindedly. He froze on the spot when he saw the tears welling up in the angel’s eyes.

‘This is no laughing matter, Crowley!’ Aziraphale sobbed, trying to keep his voice steady and failing. ‘I don’t know why you’re not angry after all that happened. I’m angry at myself for trusting peo-individuals, who had never given me a reason to do so, over you.’

‘Angel,’ Crowley began, but Aziraphale shook his head.

‘I’m as angry at myself as I am at them. How could they be so blood thirsty? Not that anything else can be expected of hell, but heaven was supposed to be different, or so I’d been told. Following the Great Plan. Acting in the interest of the Greater Good. To think that heaven has long made their own rules and believed that their actions were perfectly justified in the absence of divine intervention, it’s… it’s inexplicable! And the absence of divine intervention itself hurts. It hurts so much, when for so long all I had to go by were Gabriel’s words. You’re a much better person than he ever was. So how come you’re the one who’s fallen? It’s not fair for you to be in this position, you deserve so much better.’ The angel let out a broken sob. ‘The plan really must be ineffable. I certainly can’t make rhyme or reason of it.’

Crowley had known that Aziraphale had been holding himself together since the delivery van had left, leaving them with only their thoughts on that bench, but the sight of the angel, his angel, in this state brought out a surge of determination in him he hadn’t known he was capable of until he’d driven his Bentley into a wall of hellfire.

‘We’ll figure something out. We always do.’ he said hastily and rushed over to Aziraphale, nudging him to sit on the floor with him. Aziraphale sat, but just shuddered through his tears.

‘You don’t know that.’

‘I do!’

‘How?’ Aziraphale wiped at his cheeks and hiccupped. ‘Oh, I must be such a sorry sight…’ He pulled an old-fashioned tartan handkerchief from his breast pocket and Crowley had to bite his tongue to not make a snide remark to cover for just how endearing he found the angel’s single-mindedness at times. ‘I don’t know what to do. All I know is that I can’t let them take you, Crowley. I can’t bear the thought.’ More tears ran down his face faster than he could wipe them away.

Crowley was used to the angel being stubborn to a fault and never giving up, even when Crowley had desperately wanted him to.

This was new.

He was racking his brain for the words and finding his silver tongue practically tied at the situation. He felt panic squeeze at his ribcage. His angel was crying. Crying! The angel never cried. Crowley had to do something! Good thing he was the serpent of Eden, the original tempter. His speciality was knowing just what to say in every situation.

He reached out to the angel. They had touched rarely over the years as it had always been dangerous territory… until this night. And not only did Aziraphale not shy away, but he leaned into the touch in search of comfort. Crowley opened his mouth to speak.

‘Ngk.’

That was definitely not what he had meant to say.

So Crowley, in his desperation to do something, anything, surprisingly found himself taking a page out of the human handbook.

Unwilling to break the physical contact to dry the tears with his hand, Crowley instead pressed his lips against one of the tear tracks on his friend’s cheek, before pulling him into a tight embrace.

For a moment, which was coincidentally the exact amount of time for the weight of Crowley’s actions to hit him like a brick, both of them were very still. Crowley felt like his insides were tied up in one big knot. His mind was racing. Had he actually just done that…? 6000 years of barely even brushing fingers and he had…? And somehow, it had felt _right_?

‘Um,’ Crowley began nervously, noting that the angel pressed up against him was no longer sobbing, ‘Er. What I was trying to say was. See, my point was…’

Serpent of Eden, indeed.

He felt the angel release a breath. Crowley eased the grip on him, but found that Aziraphale was making no move to break the contact. Instead, he wrapped his arms around the demon’s waist and shifted so that they were eye to eye. Crowley helped him get comfortable, with the angel’s head resting against Crowley’s shoulder and their arms around each other. His blue eyes were still misty, but Aziraphale was no longer crying. Instead, he was looking at Crowley with an expression that briefly made the demon feel as though he might melt on the spot.

‘Right,’Aziraphale said simply, looking a bit bashful. ‘Apologies, my dear.’

‘Got nothing to apologize for.’, Crowley muttered.

‘I think I do. I hope you know that despite of what I said yesterday, I do like you. In fact, I would much rather walk through the seven circles of hell than to lose you.’

Crowley made a face. ‘You’re such a sap.’

‘You’re not exactly in a position to talk, dear boy.’

They stayed like this for some time, in the twilight of the night in Crowley’s verdant garden, just enjoying the closeness they had never dared indulge in, with Crowley wiping any stray tears off the angel’s face wordlessly. He could hear rain pattering against the windows beyond the classical music emanating from his phone in the living room. He was suddenly taken back to the first rain on that fateful day 6000 years ago. Thinking back, he allowed himself to hold Aziraphale just a little tighter. It felt like just another day of repaying a kindness he knew he would never be able, but never tire of trying, to repay.

‘I know why we’ve never been able to do this before, but I still feel like we’ve been missing out big time.’, he mumbled. ‘’s comfortable.’

The angel gave a hum of agreement. He leaned in to give the demon a chaste kiss on the lips, which was returned without hesitation. ‘That’s why we should probably start preparing for when heaven and hell inevitably seek us out to extract their revenge. Just so we get another chance of doing this.’

‘There has to be something we can do. Wish good old Agnes had left us more of a clue, though.’

‘’Choose your faces wisely…’ I thought she’d been referring to Armageddon, but maybe it was a clue as to how to get out of this situation.’

* * *

‘I do NOT move like that.’

Crowley-as-Aziraphale ran his hand through his hair and realized that Aziraphale’s short curls were entirely unsuitable for achieving the level of theatrics Crowley was going for with the gesture. He frowned.

‘That frown looks entirely wr-aaaargh-’ the angel, trying to turn around on his – well Crowley’s – heels, stumbled over his own suddenly too-long legs and collided with the wall behind him. The wall in question turned out to be a rotating door in disguise, much to the angel’s confusion, who suddenly found himself in a different room.

‘Maybe we should just hide out in this flat of yours,’ Aziraphale-as-Crowley shouted through the wall, ‘heaven and hell would never find us in here.’ He looked around. ‘Are these canvases?’

The door flung open so fast it nearly got the emerging demon trapped in its orbit.

* * *

‘That’s it, work that ass!’ Crowley cheered, earning himself a scowl from his counterpart.

‘You _have_ to try to sound more like me!’ Aziraphale chided.

Crowley-as-Aziraphale gave him a little smile. ‘Apologies, my dear.’

The ensuing toothy grin on Aziraphale-as-Crowley’s face was enough to make the demon positively beam.

‘You… you look _right_.’ he remarked.

‘So do you.’

‘We can do this.’

‘Yes. I believe we can.’

The angel turned to Crowley’s bedroom window overlooking the city. The clouds were turning pink and yellow at the horizon, bathing London in vibrant morning colours. Aziraphale took Crowley’s hand into his and gave it a reassuring squeeze.

They didn’t know what this first day of the rest of their lives had in store for them.

They didn’t know if they were going to experience another sunrise after this one.

They were. And they were going to witness it after waking up, huddled together in a restored bookshop after the best rest they had gotten since the beginning of time, knowing that they were finally free to choose each other for all eternity.

* * *

Bonus artwork:

**Author's Note:**

> The art came first, but I took it as an opportunity to write about the night of the bodyswap, which I've been meaning to do for a while. I hope you enjoy!  
> Feel free to check out my other social media:  
> Tumblr: https://www.tumblr.com/blog/skelligiri  
> DeviantArt: https://www.deviantart.com/skelligiri (my last 12 years of artwork are on there, although I haven't got many watchers who are into Good Omens by the looks of it?)  
> Twitter: https://www.twitter.com/skelligiri (only started posting there recently)


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